Shelter
by DarkSigyn
Summary: Set in the future when circumstances ripped Tom from Liz's life and she cannot bear being in her house alone. She makes the decision to visit Rezzler for the first time who was ordered to take a few days off due to an injury. Now with no workplace and case to keep mind occupied this visit might not be the best idea, or maybe just Liz' best idea. RATING changed
1. Alone

Nothing was worse than days off; maybe evenings during the weeks on days off. Special Agent Donald Ressler didn't love his job for nothing: it kept his head busy, distracted and as far away as possible from remembering a past that was irretrievable. Trying to concentrate on the football on TV he brought his beer back to his mouth just to realize with a sigh that the bottle was empty. Dropping the remote on the low table in front of him Ressler got up stroking the crinkles out of his T-shirts and tucking at his tracking pants. No one from work would recognizing him wearing that lazy clothing and his hair almost being a mess. This was his way of separating work from his personal life: getting out of his cases just like his suits. But then being dressed up at home wasn't something one did, was it.  
As he closed the fridge again and placed the new bottle on the counter there was a knock on the door. This time he suppressed a sigh and rather frowned grumpily. At least it was a distraction, but who the hell would drop by at this time and not use the doorbell? There weren't many people that even knew where he lived and less he would have invited.  
It took only a few steps to get the door and he wasn't entirely sure if he had hoped for or dreaded what was standing in the frame, wearing a black trench coat that seemed to be dripping from rain.  
"How do you manage being single for that long?" Liz strolled into his apartment, like she had been here a thousand times, when he actually hadn't even been aware of her knowing his address.  
Rezzler didn't answer, at least not with words but with a clenched jaw as she reminded him awfully on Reddington who definitely would have shown the same demeanor. He closed the door behind her and watched her pulling her gloves from her hands.

Their last case had been solved only two days ago and of course it had been one of Reddington's, yet it was just the same case that made Cooper order Ressler to take a few days off, since he got beaten up pretty bad until Keen had shot the target, even though they had wanted to get that man alive.  
Donald's glance dropped on Liz's fingers. No rings. He breathed in deeply and headed for his beer, covering up the punch he felt in his stomach.  
"Want one?" he asked, trying not to ponder whether he just hadn't noticed that she had stopped wearing her wedding and engagement ring, or that she had just decided to do so this very evening.  
A part of him new that he would have seen that instantly, but he didn't allow his mind to wander into this direction, even though it was pulling right there like a hungry dog towards its home.  
His eyes made sure not to graze her figure, even though he was aware of the fact that she was moving, probably looking around his dark apartment that was ruled by clear and wooden shapes. He could hear her take her coat off and hang it up, while he was opening his bottle. Also he couldn't see the expression that was on her face: determination with a hint of uncertainty.  
As he looked at her and lifted the bottle into her direction all of this was gone hidden behind a mask of calmness that rather unsettled him. Still she hadn't answered his question and she breathed in deeply, as if she needed to relax.  
"I'd better not", she said walking up to him slowly, eventually placing her right hand on the counter, and added an explanation: "Took the car."  
His shoulders attempt to shrug, but somehow he wasn't able to continue that expression, because he kept asking himself why she was here at the first place. So he brought the bottle to his mouth and took a big gulp, hoping to swallow down whatever made him so nervous about her.  
"So why're you here?" he asked blatantly, just like she would expect him to.  
Ressler always came directly to the point, as long as he could keep his personal life out of it. Right now them being in his apartment it seems somewhat strange, but he still went with it, using this approach as a protective shield, now that he didn't wear a suit as armor. Just then he realized that being at the office it would have been the perfect target for Red, because Liz first words had been telling everything he needed to know.  
"I just couldn't stay in that house all alone any longer", she answered and he wondered what had happened to their dog and why he didn't know; of course he was aware of the answer: because it wasn't his business.  
Elizabeth Keen's personal life was none of his concern. She was a colleague and nothing more. If it only were as simple as that. For a brief moment he almost had offered her that he could crash on the couch and she could stay overnight. His mouth had already opened, but he quickly closed it again. That wasn't a good idea. Not at all.  
Dropping his gaze quickly he made another attempt to swallow down the uproar chaos within himself that apparently always emerged when she was around an most definitely that close. She still stood here as his eyes wandered back into her direction and she was looking at him. At the office there always was a reason not to look at her: All those screens, Cooper, Malik, Reddington and other agents but now it was rude. However her invading his home like that was rude as well, just like him not continuing that poor conversation he had started. Just when he had put enough words together to make sense, Liz frowned slightly and glanced at her fingers  
"How are you? I mean, how're your ribs?"  
Donald really didn't want to give her a slight smile, but apparently his face didn't give him any vote on that matter: "I'm fine. Nothing broken. I'll manage."  
Her answer was a nod and somehow it was her now avoiding to look at him, which wasn't only confusion but slightly awkward as we..  
"I don't know what I was thinking", Liz suddenly blurted out and was about to turn around to get her coat if it wasn't for Donald almost asking simultaneously: "You want anything else to drink?"  
And he did regret it, because she smiled. She smiled a hole right through his chest and burned his heart, so that it was him who turned away a little too quick. With a hiss he exhaled as his aching ribs protested.  
He didn't even hear her move. Maybe because he was too occupied with freezing to avoid the pain and clenching to his bottle so that he wouldn't drop it. It was the warmth of her hand on his shoulder that told him where she was. And soon after that the distinctive scent of her perfume, which he tried not to inhale too deeply.  
"I'm fine", he repeated grumpily and moved despite the pain, hoping to flee from the much too comforting warmth spreading from her touch, just to freeze again.  
He shouldn't have turned around, because he might have evaded her hand, but not her face was much too close and there was just no way of covering up what that did to him


	2. Closer

Liz had sat there at her kitchen counter for almost an hour, turning those two rings which had been at her ring finger in her hands until she eventually had made the decision to take them and put them in a box in the hallway before she left. She had found out his address months ago, lying to herself about the reason why, coming up with strange excuses that one should know such things about one's partner, but deep inside she had needed to know, just in case. And now it was that case.  
While driving Liz tried to distract her mind from imagining and rather trying to figure out what made her start thinking about him in the first place. She couldn't even tell when it started, until Red's remarks. First towards Ressler which she wiped away as Red's usual torment, but then he started asking those questions and these annoying questions stayed in her head, circling in her mind like flies around a cadaver because there still was Tom.  
It was ridiculous how similar they were - Ressler and her- just in different fields. Both going by the book: he in their job, she in her personal life. It was irony that she thought his behavior was wrong and hers right.

Liz squinted as an oncoming car's headlight almost blinded her, and disintegrated her strain of thought on which she had clung, hoping that when she had reached the end she would turn around. And now it was either that, or continuing. Her lips formed a thin line. She had made that decision already. There was no way of backing out.

Then she had imagined and had gone with it. How she would go there, knock at that door, watch him open it. She had seen his surprise on his face, how his reddish hair was slightly messy, the way they rarely would see at work, the way she liked it most, especially when imagining that it was the result of her hands. Liz had imagined that she would simply had grabbed him by his shirt and kiss him and leave him no other chance than to follow her lead. She had lined it all out, all the way to his apartment. And how this tension, this heat would finally turn into thin air and vanish and that they could move on.

It didn't happen. And now in that very moment as he turned around to her, after telling her for the second time that he was fine when she knew that he was hurting, he was so close, much too close and Liz could see right through the cracks of his unbreakable wall, his mask of stone, Because the moment of reaction, the moment everyone would have backed off, passed. He just looked at her, being just the opposite of stern, focused and rational.

Liz never would have expected from herself that she would freeze on this opportunity, and that she would hesitate. It was simply the way he looked at her. That gaze which explained absolutely everything that seemed to translate all the other glances and looks she never really had noticed.

"Let me take a look", Donald's deep, rough voice made her snap out of her thoughts and she could feel how her cheeks started burning of embarrassment and she scolded herself silently.  
He had turned away and opened the fridge, hiding his face behind the door and Liz knew that it was exactly what he was attempting. She might not have been able to read him for a long time, but the more she had learned about herself, the more she seemed to get him and maybe that was the reason why she was drawn to him. Liz had to admit it.

"Maybe one beer", she suggested and slowly stepped towards him, watching how his shoulders tensed and she could imagine that typical frown that curled his brows and crinkled his forehead.  
Even though hidden by that door she would see how this expression was accompanied with confusion, and how she would have been able to watch him ponder if it wasn't for that cover.

"You're sure?" he moved, already grabbing that bottle and looked at her with that exact composition on his face she was already expecting.

He turned towards her in surprise and bewilderment as he noticed that she was smirking and had caught up to him, and because a part of him realized that she might not have meant the beer with that. There was somewhat relief and a glint of disappointment when Liz reached out her hand adding a "Gimme that", with that radiant smile of hers, which was why he probably didn't expect her to continue stepping towards him, placing the bottle he just had given her right next to his. Not that Donald was able to move in that moment.

Her hand touched his shoulder just a breath take before she pressed her lips against his, gentle but determined to steal the air from his lungs and the thoughts from his mind. His always to strict and grim lips were so much softer than they looked like. He tasted of beer and something else: salty and yet sweet and terribly addicting. This kiss followed a second, one with his hands in her hair, framing her face, pulling her towards him, like there was no mind left. She left herself melt against him carefully and still relentlessly, being surprised by him moving her around to press her against that fridge, like he couldn't have her any closer.


	3. Fire and Ice

He could lose himself in this kiss, slowly trailing her cheekbones with is thumbs, inhaling her scent like it was the only air he was capable of breathing in, sensing the warmth of her body against his, feeling her hands running down his chest. It was so perfect and so destructing. Donald could lie to himself, try to pretend, but he knew that he had passed the point of return long time ago, that single point after which he cared way too much for Liz than he had sworn to ever care again. He loved it and he hated it just the same. And her kissing him was the least thing he had expected; the last thing he had dared to think of and still did every other night. Still it had happened; still it was the worst thing that could have happened. All these consequences, disturbances, complications that would come along with this swamped his head as he needed to breathe. This only being a kiss and how much worse it would become if this turned into more than that and how much he wanted more than that.

Right before her hands reached his back, leaving a path of languorous warmth Ressler pulled away and stepped back, turning away his head with his eyes to the ground. Licking his lips he pressed them shut to a thin line and closed his eyes, scolding himself silently for why he had to do that as if he wanted to savor that last taste of hers. She tasted so much more addicting than he had imagined.

Donald's mind started racing like a bloodhound that had been on leash for too long, trying to find a rational explanation for why Liz had kissed him, and one that would make this situation easier, that would kill off his confusion and yearning to continue right there where he had stopped with the cold blade of pain. It would way more merciful and brief than being slowly ripped apart by grief once again. He already was drowning himself in imagining the worst possible effects it would have had on their lives. Their work lives. Him having a personal life, private responsibilities, emotions that would influence him, disturb him in being a right out of the handbook agent. Not that having her around already did that. Yet he never wanted to be anything else than a rational functioning soldier. Nothing else than free from emotional attachments. And Liz was ruining all that. She already made his well mend façade crumble wherever she touched it, having him work hard to fix the holes she left. And she had done so right from the start. Ressler had tried to ignore that he had known this the moment she had seen her, that he had sensed her being a threat to his perfect functioning machinery. And the better he got to know her, the more this threat had grown.

"You should do", he managed to bring out hoarsely, relieved that he had been faster than her to talk, which was kind of unusual and tried to bring back his composure – even if it was just a fake – back on his face, but his hand clenching to the counter betrayed him.

Liz had to catch her breath and sort her mind from being intoxicated and confused, because she felt cold all of the sudden after his feverish touch. She blinked and needed a moment to comprehend his words. They didn't match at all what she had experienced just moments go.

Just like that he was back: Special Agent Donald Ressler, rational and focused, and most definitely being untrue to himself. Just like she had been until he had kissed her back like that. He had swiped her off her feet, rolled her over like a landslide after her merely tossing a marble. And all she could think of for a moment was that she wanted to be breathless again, feel him again, forget everything again. Liz could still taste him on her lips, scent him in her nose, yet the memory of his body pressed against her was already fading, and she could barely handle her own reaction to this. It wasn't disappointment, it was worse than that. It did hurt. Him rejecting her, telling her to leave after this. Because she realized that Tom never had managed to switch off her brain like that. It hit her cold and hard like an iceberg. How odd to compare herself to the Titanic.

The worst thing was that if it things had happened just as she had planned, if she would have felt like she had anticipated, Liz would simply had left. What an irony that she was doing just the same again: trying to act rationally in her private life; just when realization about herself dawned on her once again. Donald's words made so much sense. It dawned to her why he pushed her away. And she knew that she had only three options: doing what he asked her to, doing the opposite, or both, because he was right. Still of all these reactions Liz had outlined for him she hadn't expected the only one that was left now: that he would actually have true feelings for her, more than just attraction. That thought alone made her feel like she was burning up on the inside.

"I'm sorry", she answered, playing the abashed, casting her eyes down and picking up her gloves before heading towards her mantle.  
Liz could sense how he tensed, but he didn't say a word, didn't act to hold her back and it made her furious in a way she hadn't expected. How could she expect melting ice with a match, how could she expect controlling that wildfire inside her with an ice cube?

Right there between counter and wardrobe she made a full stop and swung around, clenching her hands into her gloves, feeling the tension of her body up to her aching shoulders.  
"No", Liz wanted to throw a thousand insults at Ressler's head, for being such a tenacious, stoic idiot, but whatever had assembled in her mind, it disintegrated into nothing that moment she saw his face again, even though her mouth opened and closed like she was a fish on land.


	4. Breathe

Ressler didn't look at her, he just couldn't, and being torn about this situation was written all over his face, like so often when it came to her, even on the job. She made him say things he wouldn't even think of when it came to other agents. Try to cheer her up in the most professional manner as possible, trying to be her mentor. He had no idea, no logical explanation why he felt so obliged to do that, even though giving advice was part of the job description when one had more experience. However with Liz it had always been different and it always had irritated him. In the end he had gotten used to the permanent gnawing on his nerves.

Yet Liz saw this expression for the first time which he always had managed to hide, when having no idea if he was doing the right thing, saying something helpful, trying to make her feel better without showing his attachment. Right here, right now he had failed. It took him some time to realize that she was still there and once again she confused, irritated him, made him feel, and hurt. And with that heartrending mixture he looked at her, making her close her eyes and shake her head, being once more confronted with the enigma that was Ressler.

"If you really want me to leave, you shouldn't look at me like that", she heard herself say, while asking why the hell she was still standing on that spot instead of killing the distance and kissing him again.  
Somehow she was paralyzed, just like him. Maybe because they both knew that this was a one way cross-road and neither of them had expected the weight that to make the air damper. Just like their stubbornness appeared to be additional weight to their feet.

Donald sighed and turned away to apparently grab his beer, but instead he took the unopened bottle to pop off the lid and hold it out to her, without giving Liz one single glance. At least this made her move slowly, though her mind was definitely racing, trying to interpret his behavior right now, while he tried to erase that kiss from his mind, which was impossible with his thoughts circling around it. So being used to automatic behavior he just went with it, taking his beer from next to the fridge with his eyes glued to the ground and turned towards the TV that was still running. Ressler could feel her eyes burning on his skin, watching him in disbelief as the just continued functioning.

He was absolutely right about her expression, and he knew it, since he had watched her ever since her first day on their team. Ressler didn't need to look at her to be sure about her being taken aback about his behavior and that was just what needed to happen, to straighten out the lines again. What he wasn't aware of, what he couldn't notice was how Liz's expression changed following him moving around and back to the couch, because this time she got it, she got him, and his defense mechanism and this time she wouldn't allow herself to be fooled by him again.

And because of that she used her advantage of being uninjured and therefore faster, to place her bottle on the low table next to the remote, after taking a huge gulp, before he had finished his war around the furniture. Ressler had no chance to avoid looking at her or sit down because she was blocking the way.

"You… want something to eat?"

Liz suppressed a slight smile as she called him trying to cover up his surprise. She refused him an answer to that, and reached out instead to take his bottle which he tried to place down as well with gritting his teeth as that movement seemed to hurt him. He flinched slightly as her fingers touched his, swallowing down the piercing pain that sudden tension created in his side and his eyes fled from hers.

"I'll take a look", his voice was more lowly now and he already was about to turn away, as he realized that she had cheated, because she had managed to replace his bottle of beer with her other hand and Donald eyes needed to double check his fingers.

"Liz", despite that short sound his voice still broke, maybe because he said her name for the first time, and of course it was meant to tell her that this wasn't a good idea, because it wasn't the right thing, but still his tone expressed more emotion that he ever had intended.

She pulled him towards her, moving into his direction at the same time and caught his face with both of her hands before she thought he was able to react. How could she already have missed the way his mouth felt against hers? She almost forgot that she hadn't expected him to not fight her, that he simply would close his eyes and kiss her back softly in defeat. And Liz definitely hadn't reckoned what this would do to her, that it would made her pull him closer, and nestle herself against him. Her heart beat sped up to much quicker due to the fact that she made him defenseless and she wouldn't let him get away this time, not even when his hands stayed at his sides. She would make them move.

Donald did see it coming like watching an upcoming train hitting a car he was sitting in, watching her move in slow motion still being so much faster than him. He didn't have the slightest chance to react and he didn't want to. At all. Her lips tasted exactly like he remembered and it felt like they had never even left his. Before he was able to move he could already feel her body against his and he forgot how to breathe.


	5. Duel

Liz's kiss muffled that voice of reason and all its rational arguments in his head, slowed down his thoughts. With the breath she stole, by merging her lips into his, and burying her finders into his hair, she suppressed his mind to function only on its basic instincts. This was something he always had managed to control, something he always carefully avoided and now she was stripping him from all his weapons, kissing him like that, allowing him to pull in just enough air so he was able to continue responding to her.

Donald wanted to protest, to stop her, to grab her elbows and push her away, but his hands missed their target, merely grazed it and landed beneath her shoulder blades instead, pressing her closer, because she had fought down this attempt with one single strike, one single movement of her tongue across his lower lip. And he didn't care at all about his bruised rips as he kept holding her against him, being the one now who was stealing the air from her lungs, when his fingers grazed down to her lower back, stopping right on top of her hips. Liz's body responded with a shiver, surprising herself with that reaction.

She wanted him to go on, to grab her, to lift her up, fling her around, bringing them both down to the couch, so that she could pin him against the furniture. Yet he didn't and it made her restless, impatient, and astonished about her own feelings. Had she really underestimated how much she had longed for this, for him. So it was her. Her hands trailing down his neck, to his chest, pushing him backwards, around, so that one of his hands instinctively reached back, catch him as he forced him out of his balance.

The only thing that reminded of his injury was the hissing sound of Ressler inhaling sharply through his teeth as his back fell against the couch. She wouldn't give him any chance to flee this situation. As soon as he was sitting, she was straddling his lap, bringing her hands back to his neck, his face. And she couldn't allow herself a break, because she was afraid that he would that the chance and try to stop her, because she was scared that her own reason would kick in and that was the least thing she wanted right now.

Liz had enough of all this reasoning, being rational, being focused, of her job claiming her life and Red demanding to be the center of it. For once she wanted to dictate the terms, to take what she wanted, to enjoy herself. As that thought crossed her mind, she pulled back, looking down at him, inhaling deeply. The way he looked back at her, up to her, made her tremble. She had no idea for how long she would have this chance, blackening out his mind like that. The though alone that she could even have this power over him would have never crossed her mind.

Even if he had a chance, Donald would never have thought of taking it; he didn't think at all, which was something he hadn't done for years. He simply couldn't. Having her as close as this, it felt like everything he ever wanted, he ever needed, without him knowing. He had no idea that he had missed this, until realization drowned him with a wave of heat, boiling his skin, making the air feel like ice in his lungs and only her breath was capable to warm it up, so that his lungs were able to function. If there had been just the glimpse of an idea of resisting left, it just needed this one, single, unbearable movement of her pelvis against his lap to erase it. He couldn't separate the pain of his rips from the ache inside him anymore. His hands were desperate, racing up her back again, to make her kiss him again.

His hands lost themselves in her hair, slightly pulling it and Liz just loved it and all it made her do was increasing the pressure on him, moaning lowly into his mouth involuntarily. And yet, his instant reaction was intoxicating, heating her up like being tossed into a fire. She couldn't help herself, and she didn't want to stop herself. From sucking his lips between her teeth, from dragging her fingernails down his shirt, from grabbing its rim and pulling it up, forcing him to lift his arms. His response was mirroring her, by bringing his hands to the buttons of her blouse. She hadn't had the patience to let him do this on his own and he couldn't mind less, quickly pulling off the fabric from her skin and soon as the piece of clothing was undone.

None of them were prepared for what it felt like feeling the skin of the other against their own, of feeling hot and cold in the very same moment, like velvet and stone. It was him now framing her face with his hands, holding it close while their tongues were fighting duels, both of them winning, until he decided to hold her captive and leave her mouth, dragging his lips down her neck so slowly that it was definitely unbearable and her hands started to pull on his. The only option of payback she had was grinding herself against him, making him gasp an stop. Yet she didn't get any chance to triumph, because he finally did what she had been hoping for: taking initiative, wrapping one arm around her, and turn her around, so that she found herself lying on her back on his couch, looking up into his clear blue eyes as hesitation caught him. Still she wouldn't allow him to stop and took his face hostage once more, making him kiss her.

The most intoxicating revelation was that he was smiling against her lips once they met again and it didn't steal her breath, but rather make her brain forget what the meaning of that word was, or the action it was describing. Even more as his fingertips slid gently down her sides creating a mixture of tickle and heat. Especially when they reached the rim of her jeans.


	6. Skin

Liz's breath was as shallow as it was futile as she looked at Ressler kneeling between her legs, straightening up slightly. Disappointment was the sharp air she sucked in as his hands moved on down her legs and he cocked one brow at her with a smirk she had never seen on him before. This whole expression was new and it made her blush like a schoolgirl seeing a man's bare chest for the first time. And then she really had to chuckle and bite down her lips, because he was pulling off her shoes, something she hadn't thought of. Just like that the situation had changed into something more delightful and though she loved it, being able to feel like that around him, Liz definitely wanted that heat back again. So she sat up quickly, bringing down one of her leg to support her and enfolded his face with her hands: "There's no way you're getting out of this", she said lowly with her eyelids just as low, before she kissed him, denying him a chance to answer.

But yet again Donald found a way to comment, just like always; and it was something that usually annoyed her just like Red being right. This time however sensing his hands on her back, trailing up her spine created languorous goose bumps on her skin. And he actually made her stop when he undid her bra on the first try. Liz opened her mouth just to be literally hushed by him, which made her indeed speechless. How could one simple sound like that be so electrifying? There was no chance for her brain to answer that question, because she including her mouth was pulled against him again and the missed heat was back, like he had just flipped his fingers.

If she had known that kissing him would feel like fireworks beneath her skin, Liz definitely done that sooner. If she had known how safe she felt in his arms, she probably would have let her guard down earlier. It was strange to not feel like the stronger one, the tougher one, just like she had felt with Tom, who had always be the one to talk her out of her worries, but not taking them. Now she didn't worry at all, she couldn't think of one thing right now. There wasn't a real difference when it came to the appearance either. Tom hat been athletic and lean, like a young tree leaning against a storm moving with it to survive. She had always felt like he was giving her roots, but not enough to shelter her in that storm, because he was always twisting and turning out of her grasp. And as how true this had been. Donald however was a rock: solid, honest, strong and immovable. The latter however seemed to change thanks to her or maybe just for her. And that thought made her smile against his lips when her back touched his couch again, making her ask herself how she hadn't noticed that he had stripped her from another piece of clothing.

Donald had no idea what was more agonizing: the pain in his side or her soft skin against his. It wasn't easy to lean on his arms like that when one side seemed to consist of burning metal, eating away his bones. But he didn't want to stop, he just couldn't. His body didn't even need to convince his mind anymore, because he had no idea, no real explanation why they hadn't ended up like this weeks ago, or maybe even months ago. Probably because he had never imagined that Liz would actually want this as well, imagine something like this even. The piercing pain in his side stopped his thinking and he was unable to take up the lost string because of her hands brushing up his chest. He needed to close his eyes, to savor and to bear this.

Liz knew that he was in pain, simply because she had had a cracked rib herself not so long ago. Yet this wasn't the only reason she pushed him up, while he opened his eyes in confusion because he thought that she was trying to push him away. As he sat and wanted to say something, Liz silenced him with a kiss, while undoing her jeans and she didn't need to look down at his tracking pants because she already had felt the result of her actions against her body. Apart from that the expression on his face was speaking for itself. And that his hands were rather cool when they touched her skin again, making her breath in quickly.

Ressler surprised her once more. Even though she hadn't expected him to do the opposite, she definitely hadn't anticipated that he would pull her closer, gently, letting his hands run up her back to gently force her body against his as soon as she kneeled on his couch straddling his lap. He didn't pull her down, he didn't go for it at all, the only thing he did seem to want was digging his hands in her long dark hair and made it fall across his face when his mouth found hers again. And just like that he turned her into complete chaos, like he was rebuilding her skin with every touch of his fingers that slid down, slowly, followed by his lips which were exploring her neck. Now his hands' being cool was a sensation that drove her insane. So much for taking the lead. Liz was paralyzed, only being able to lean back her head and hold on to the back of his while he was kissing his way down. She hadn't had any idea that her skin could be that sensitive.


End file.
